Text Quotes - Blog Posts

She left the bathroom door open. An invitation. A challenge. Steam rolls out, thick and heavy, but it’s her scent that draws me in—sweet, needy, already waiting. I step inside, and there she is, standing under the shower, her hands gliding over her wet skin, pretending she doesn’t know exactly what she just did.

But I know.

I don’t say a word. I don’t need to. In three strides, I’m behind her, yanking her against me, letting her feel exactly what she’s done to me. She gasps, back arching, ass pressing into my cock, slick and ready. My hand snakes up, fingers wrapping around her throat, tilting her head back against my shoulder.

“You knew I’d come,” I growl against her ear.

She whimpers, nodding. That’s all I need. I shove her forward, pressing her against the cold tile, spreading her open. No teasing. No hesitation. Just one brutal thrust, and I’m inside—hot, tight, perfect pussy.

She cries out, hands scrambling for something to hold onto, but I don’t let up. I grip her hips and fuck her like an animal, like she’s mine to take, mine to fill. Because she is. Every slap of skin, every ragged moan, every desperate clench of her soaked cunt screams it.

She left that door open because she wanted this—wanted to be bred, claimed, ruined. And I give it to her, pounding her into the tile, dragging my teeth over her shoulder, leaving my mark.

Her legs shake first, a strangled moan ripping from her throat as she comes, walls milking my cock, begging for more. I don’t stop, don’t slow. I grab her tighter, thrust deeper, chasing the only thing left—burying myself inside her and filling her up completely until she has no doubt she’s been fucking bred.

The second you step inside, I’m on you. I grab your wrist and yank you against me, my grip firm, my breath hot against your ear.

"You listened"

I murmur, my hand already sliding up your thigh, finding panties but just bare skin.

You shiver, but before you can react, I spin you around and shove your face against the wall, pressing my body hard into you. My hand grips your throat—not too tight, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

"You really walked around all day like this?"

I growl, my other hand slipping between your legs, fingers teasing, exploring your wet cunt.

"Nothing under that little skirt? Acting innocent while knowing exactly what you were doing?"

You whimper, pushing back against me, craving more. I chuckle darkly, yanking your hips back, forcing you into the position I want.

"Filthy slut,"

I whisper, my teeth grazing your earlobe. Then, without warning—SMACK. My palm lands hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt. You gasp, but you don’t pull away. You want this.

Another slap. Then another. Harder this time. Your skin turns pink, then red, each strike making you tremble, making you more desperate.

"Look at you," I taunt, gripping your waist as I admire my work. "Dripping, squirming, needy." My fingers slide between your legs again, teasing your now soaked pussy.

"You wanted this all along, didn’t you?"

I grab your chin, tilting your face toward me, forcing you to meet my eyes.

"Now, beg to be used and fucked,"

I demand.

"Let me hear how much you love being put in your place."

I’m going to take you roughly—pin you down, wrap my hand around your throat, and watch the need in your eyes as you surrender to me. You don’t get to decide how or when—I do. I’ll fuck you like you were made for me, like your only purpose is to please me, make me cum, to be used until you’re trembling and spent. I want to hear you beg, feel you struggle, and know that no matter how much you resist, in the end, you’ll give in

Owned in Every Way: The Intimacy of Missionary

When I take you in missionary, it’s not just about dominance—it’s about possession. My weight presses you into the bed, my hands keep you exactly where I want you, but it’s your eyes I claim the most. No turning away, no hiding—just you, fully open, fully mine. Every thrust reminds you who you belong to, and in that moment, there is no escape… only surrender.